


Crash

by owly



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, but good sad, i think, please have mercy on me, this is kind of sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 16:38:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1435420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owly/pseuds/owly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>/Crash, fall down</p><p>I'll wrap my arms around you now</p><p>just crash, it's our time now,</p><p>to make this work second time around./</p><p>Harry wants something that he can't have. Unless Louis will let him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crash

It’s late. It’s so late that Louis is just starting to give up trying to get to sleep when he hears it. There’s a scrape of a key against the door before it finds its way into the lock, a few stubborn attempts to turn the key before the door opens and staggering footsteps make their way inside.

Louis gets out of bed at the sound of the door closing because he can’t sleep and because he knows it’s him.

It’s safe to say that Harry doesn’t look his best. He’s got messier hair than usual, his eyes are half-lidded and bloodshot and he’s finding it hard to balance on two feet. He’s been drinking.

“Harry? Where’ve you been?” Louis asks. Harry’s head whips up to look at Louis, then his eyebrows furrow and he starts walking to his bedroom. Louis doesn’t let him pass.

“You’re not going to tell me what you’ve been doing all night?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Harry slurs. “Fuck, move,” he demands, so Louis decides to let him go. He pushes past him and stomps all the way to his bedroom. Louis hears the sound of his best friend’s bedroom door being locked and he sighs, leaning back against the wall.

Louis doesn’t like how Harry is acting these days. He never thought it would be this bad. He didn’t think that what started on one curious night years ago would ever end up like this.

-

It’s afternoon the next day. The boys are having lunch with the guys and they haven’t said a word to each other since the encounter last night.

Niall notices how distant the two boys are and asks them what’s wrong. Harry replies that he couldn’t sleep last night in a deadpan tone. Louis says the same and gives his sullen bandmate a pointed glance. Harry only stares back blankly.

-

It’s a few days later now but nothing’s changed. Harry’s still being silent and sulky, and Louis still doesn’t know what his best friend has been doing in the evenings that causes him to come home in such bad states. And he still can’t help him because apparently it’s _Louis’_ fault and because he doesn’t know what _exactly_ is wrong because Harry won’t tell him.

-

It’s two nights later that they reach breaking point. Harry arrives home in worse shape than ever before. He’s drunk out of his mind, dishevelled and extremely moody. He stumbles into Louis’ room before Louis has the chance to get out of bed. He’s confused towards his bandmate’s behaviour and very concerned about the state he’s in.

“You’re gunna interrogate me anyway so here I fuckin’ am. Happy?” Harry is wobbling on his feet and his eyes are red. Louis stands up and reaches out towards his arm.

“H, calm down, you’re-”

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me!” he yells, swatting Louis’ hand away from him. “You’ve done ‘nough already.”

Louis stays silent and decides he’s going to get Harry to sober up, no matter how long it takes or how much he protests. He needs to talk to this shell that used to be his best friend. He needs to sort this out.

He manages to get him to sit down and gives him lots of coffee and water. Harry is reluctant but he can’t say no.

“Why d’you want me sober?” he asks, as if it was a stupid idea. “I hate being fucking sober.” Louis sees this as a chance to get a look into Harry’s mind.

“Why?”

“’Cuz when I’m sober I can’t get my mind off things, I can’t distract myself ‘cause everything is right fucking _there_ , and it won’t go away ‘til I get drunk and then everything goes hazy and I don’t have to give a shit.”

It’s a couple of coffees later and Louis notices the side of one of Harry’s hands is grazed and red. He asks how it happened and Harry dismissively says he tripped on the way home. Louis leaves the room and comes back with some antiseptic wipes and a bandage.

“What are you doing?”

“Fixing you,” Louis replies. He slowly reaches for his bandmate’s hand, looking purposefully at Harry and the way he looks back at him lets Louis know it’s alright to touch him now. He carefully cleans the wound, anxious of hurting him.

“I wish you didn’t do things like this to yourself, H,” Louis says in an exhausted tone, as if he’s talking more to himself than to Harry as he takes his time to wrap the bandage around his hand, making sure it’s not too tight. Harry’s really starting to sober up now and the way Louis is being so gentle with him makes him start to cry.

“What else am I supposed to do? What else will make me forget everything I have going on in here?” Harry replies in distress and gestures to his head. Louis remains silent. “How do you do it?” the younger boy insists, looking at Louis with glassy, honest eyes as another tear trails down his face.

Louis finishes bandaging Harry’s hand and wishes Harry would stop crying because it breaks his heart and because he knows his best friend is crying because of him.

He doesn’t know what to say in response because he honestly doesn’t know how he does it. Ever since that night before the _Take Me Home_ tour that he told his best friend that he couldn’t carry on with their secret relationship, he had tried to push it to the back of his mind, but he never totally forgot about it. He told himself he didn’t miss those nights they spent together, the feel of soft skin under his own, the touches that set the fire inside him alight. He told himself he didn’t miss Harry.

“I can’t go on like this, Lou,” Harry sniffs. “I need you to be there for me like you used to.” He looks down at his feet and he’s still crying. “I need you to love me like you used to.” Louis’ heart skips a beat, and he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s surprised or excited or afraid.

“I don’t know, Harry, I…”

“And don’t say that we were young and foolish and that it was nothing. Don’t say that it didn’t mean anything to you because I know it did.” Harry moves closer and looks his former lover right in the eyes. “You look at me now the same way you used to.”

And then Harry’s kissing him, softly but urgently, trying to tell Louis how he needs this so desperately, how he’s so dependent on Louis that if Louis rejects him again he won’t know what to do with himself.

The older boy understands what Harry is telling him and the feel of his lips and the warmth between them reminds him of how they used to be and how hard it was to let Harry go.

And it’s even harder to let him go again but Louis pulls away, deliberating over whether he should let this happen or not because either way it has major consequences.

If they decide to do this again, it’ll mean keeping secrets from the ones closest to them, having to make sure nobody is watching them wherever they go and hiding their true feelings for each other from the rest of the world. But the two boys can’t carry on living like this for the rest of their lives: not talking to each other, having secrets, being jealous.

But if Louis says no, it’ll break Harry beyond repair and he doesn’t want to think what Harry would do, or what he would say, or how he would handle it.

And there’s still such a strong feeling between them that Louis knows won’t go away because it hasn’t gotten any weaker in the past year and a half. And they can’t run away from it, because they’ll always end up running back and they will always end up here.

Louis doesn’t want to run away.

He gazes at his bandmate, with his hair sticking out at odd angles and tired, puppy-dog eyes and tear trails down his cheeks and all he feels like doing is kissing him better.

So he does.

“I still love you,” he whispers against Harry’s shaking lips as he kisses him gently, then fiercely, then lovingly. “I never stopped.”

Louis wraps his arms around his boyfriend and holds him as tight as he dares, because he doesn’t want to break him. Harry is his to protect now, and it’s his job to make sure he doesn’t get hurt any more.

Harry knows that’s exactly what Louis is telling him through the gesture and he rests his head in the crook of his neck and breathes in deeply.

Because for all this time, he’d been secretly hoping, praying for his soulmate to crash back into his arms.

 


End file.
